Drizzled with Death(24)

He snarfed it so fast I felt a pang at how hungry he must have been. The freckled kid’s father appeared out of nowhere with a piece of pink nylon rope in his hands.

“If we could get this looped over his neck, we could hitch him to the tie-downs on your truck until we get a trailer for him,” he said, pointing at Graham’s state-issued vehicle.

“Great. If someone would fish my keys out of my pocket, we could back it over here.” Graham panted a little when he spoke. I assumed it was from wrestling with the camel, not from gazing on my sublime beauty, slobbered shirt, goopy camel spit hair, and pit stains the size of reservoirs.

“What about this instead?” I asked, dropping another piece of granola bar a few feet closer to the truck. The camel pounced, if that is a word that can be used with camels. The bit of bar was down the hatch and he was swinging his head scanning for more before Graham could regain his balance. I tossed another piece and another until I ran out of bars and had to switch to cereal treats. From the look on the camel’s face, I wasn’t sure how well he liked them at first, but he got over his aversion, and got all the way to the truck before the batch was gone. Freckle boy’s father slipped the rope over the camel’s neck. Graham tied it to the truck.

After all that work, I felt the need for a cereal treat myself. But minding my manners, I offered one to Graham first. I would have included freckle guy, but he was already back with the others bragging and laughing about something I hoped was not me and the frisky way the camel had behaved.

“No thanks. I’ll pass.”

“Not much of a sweet tooth?” I asked, hoping to confirm he was a disaster of a human being.

“Not a fan of a camel’s leftovers.” Graham pulled off his hat and wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his arm. “You must be all right if you’re tearing into a snack. Or are you a stress eater?” He squinted at me, as if the secrets of my mental health were splayed across my face like a milk mustache.

“I don’t discuss my interior life with complete strangers.” I crossed my arms across my chest, suddenly aware I didn’t stand around in wet blouses in front of them either.

“Interior life? And how do you define strangers? I introduced myself to you two nights ago.” He crossed his own arms across his chest, but the way he did it looked expansive and strangely appealing, not huddled and defensive.

“I acknowledge you are an embodiment of an establishment with which I have familiarity. That does not make us confidants.” What was I doing? Channeling Celadon? Or a long-dead Victorian spinster? I suddenly wondered if my mother had dosed me with some strange potion in my morning java.

“I just saved you from being mauled by a camel.” Now he untucked his arms and jacked his thumb at the humpbacked beast standing quietly behind the truck.

“Oh, he’s a real killer, that one.” I pointed, too, as the camel let off what appeared to be an enormous yawn before sagging to its knees on the parking lot.

“At least that animal isn’t a figment of your imagination.”

“At least he wasn’t endangering anything. Well, at least anything besides your pride. I seem to remember him dragging you off your feet until someone thought to lead him along quietly with food.”

“Maybe he’s a stress eater, too.” Graham clapped his hat back onto his head with a little more vim than was good for something made of fabric.

“I’m sure you have better things to do on a Sunday afternoon than to ask me about my eating habits.”

“I suppose they aren’t strictly under the purview of the Fish and Game Department.”

“But all those animals still roaming around are, so I won’t take up any more of your time.” Behind me I heard footsteps and a hacking, throat-clearing cough. Grampa stood there, sticking out a gnarled paw in Graham’s direction.

“Nice job, young man. Quick thinking. I’ve called my grandson, Loden, Dani here’s brother. He’ll be along with a horse trailer in just a few minutes if he doesn’t get stopped for speeding by Dani’s former beau. Laser gun Lenny.” Grampa pumped up and down on Graham’s arm with enough enthusiasm to bring up water from a well. I was enjoying contemplating how sore his arm was going to be tomorrow morning between the camel and Grampa.

“His name’s Mitch, not Lenny. And you know he doesn’t use the laser gun. He prefers to eyeball speeders.”

“He prefers to eyeball the ladies.” Grampa pulled on Graham’s arm to draw him closer. “That’s what broke them up. A speedy, roving eye. But Dani doesn’t like to talk about it.” Graham grinned at me, a beguiling, boyish grin, one of his top front teeth overlapping the other just enough to keep him from being pretty. Darn. I didn’t want to notice something like that.